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[Page 259]

with her until Saturday morning, when I catch the 10.10a.m. train from Paddington to St Ives. Twas a pleasant journey but I inwardly kept on wishing that I had a congenial companion to enjoy things with me as that couldn't be I made up my mind to be as nice and sociable to all I came in contact with. And really I had a very nice time indeed, with no one to please but myself yet I was never lonely, perhaps I could thank the uniform for the kindness I received from people and partly too for being alone but must tell you. I just took the bare necessaries that I could manage myself in a small suit case, and so be quite independent of Porters and I can assure you it pays these days when they are so scarce. At St Ives I went up to the Treganus Castle Hotel on the hill being advertised in Bradshaws Guide I felt it was quite safe. It was an ideal spot too, and I was almost tempted to spend all my time there but I soon found that the air was very enervating so decided to seek one of Devonshire beauty spots, but I think I must give you my Sunday at St Ives in detail. Most of our Sisters when going to Cornwall close Penzance, but I remember a Padre telling me once that St Ives was a place for Artists, so that was my reason for wanting to see it and really I wouldn't have missed it for anything – to wander around the old fishing village alone that is unique in its quaintness is worth a visit on its own. And that little calm blue bay with its shores lined with fishing Smacks, that lies to the left and within the larger bay of -------. In the background – or rather at the foot of the rolling waves, nestles the fishing village, I wish I could make you see it but its full of twists and turns and unexpected surprises. The streets of alleys and houses are huddled up so close together – threes something angular – triangular oblong – and crookedness everywhere.

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